Hey y'all. So, I don't have that many more pictures, but I do have some words of wisdom. I realized that I didn't actually say much last week when I posted, so now I'm going to say some words. You know, just a few of them. Specifically, the things I have learned about long vacations that may perhaps be helpful to you in the future, if you haven't done this version of vacation. If you have, feel free to sit back and laugh at me in sympathy (or non-sympathy if you're my mother and you believe in the curse [the curse of your children experiencing all the negative parts of parenting they inflicted on you {how many parentheses can I fit inside of other parentheses?}]).
Number One: Flying with Lap-children is the devil.
I don't think I was entirely prepared for the torment that is spending six or seven hours in airports and on planes with three children three and under. Let me just tell you right now. First of all, let's talk about how my children do not like to be in confined spaces, like, at all. And I had to keep them contained and occupied and relatively quiet for a lot of hours. Probably too many hours.
Then, there's the potty. Don't get me wrong, I'm more grateful than I can describe that Katie is entirely potty-trained. But let's imagine for a minute, shall we? Our first flight, from Chicago to Minneapolis, was just a little hop, and the long flight was from Minneapolis to Seattle. But our first flight was slightly delayed, and then we got stuck in a holding pattern, so we had to run across the Minneapolis airport to a
different terminal to get to our connection in about 15 minutes. And then Katie said she really had to go potty. Joy.
Lucky for us, there was a nice lady at the gate who arranged our seats so we could all be close to each other in the economy comfort seats we paid for. I had Katie and Peter, and Mike had Josh across the aisle. So seating-wise, we were okay. But in case you didn't know, babies get tired, hungry, jealous of other passengers' electronic devices, claustrophobic, restless, or even just tired of the adult that is in charge of them. And then, there's the ears. At the end of our big flight, we managed to get Katie and Peter to fall asleep on me. But alas, having two kids asleep on me meant I was helpless as I watched Josh and Mike struggle, Joshy unable to sleep because we hadn't had time for a diaper change and because his ears were hurting with the pressure, and Mike trying desperately to get him to calm down so that he wouldn't disturb the guy next to them, who was obviously sighing and rubbing his temples in frustration. The problem is that even though I had previously been praying for Josh to just fall asleep for a minute, I then turned into mama bear and started glaring at that guy for thinking anything negative about my perfect little angel boy. And then the screaming knocked some sense into me and I started praying again.
Number Two: I'm not 21 anymore.
Hot dang, is this one obvious. Granted, I grew up in a family of night-owls. We, in general, tend to stay up really late and occasionally sleep really late. It just happens. But when I was a teenager/college student, I was the most night-owly night-owl of them all. I regularly stayed up until 2 or later, and acted most of the time like I was completely unfazed. And after Mike and I got married, I only inflicted my non-sleeping habits on him. Now, fast-forward 5 or 6 years and we go on vacation. We get the kids to bed and want to hang out with all the grown-ups and play games or something . . . except by 10 pm we're sitting on the couch, eyelids drooping, drooling like zombies and blathering unintelligibly whenever we try to talk. And then if I get slap-happy I start babbling about anything and everything and everyone stares in shock and disgust as my entire life gets dumped out through my mouth without a filter. Yeah, I'm cool like that. Also I look back fondly to the days when I totally could have taken naps but chose not to. Because I was an idiot.
Number Three: AAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGHHHHHH JUNK FOOD! I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!
A couple of years ago, when we were trying to get pregnant a second time (HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA), I got on a real health kick. I will admit, I gained a fair amount of weight after we got married. I wasn't trying to catch a man anymore, let's face it. (I'm totally kidding. Don't let yourself go just because you get married.) But after Katie was a year old, I realized that I was no longer in the stage of life when skinny hips and beautiful legs were easy to come by, so I decided to take the bull by the horns. I totally put myself on a good diet, I worked out every day, and I lost upward of 20 pounds. And then I lost about 20 more because of my pregnancy (feel free to hate me, but it's because I hate food and throw up what I had not yet eaten when I'm pregnant). And for the last year, I've been pretty good about keeping it off. There was a brief time when I even felt good about my body. And then . . . I went on vacation (dun dun DUUUUUUHHHHHH!!!!).
I'm related to very good cooks, and also junk food is easy and cheap when you're travelling. Also, since we all already know that I'm kind of an emotional eater, the stress that comes with travelling with three small children has upped my chocolate intake quite a bit. I fear my addiction may turn me into a power-hungry maniac in a dramatic costume with chocolate-fetching minions. I may even have a lair, with a throne made out of chocolate that I get to eat every day, and then have my minions make a new one. Oh, this is going to be good.
NO! STOP IT, BRITTANY! See? This is what I'm talking about. I have a problem. So I'm newly determined to take control of my health again. As soon as we're back to Chicago and I have my own living room and yoga mats back, I'm getting a workout routine back into my life. And I'm already starting to try and wean myself. I've already been way better here at Mike's parents' house than I ever was in Boise. So cheer me on, guys.
Number Four: I really need to take breaks away from my children.
You may have heard before that moms never get a vacation. Let me tell you right now that that statement is completely, absolutely, 100% true. We're on "vacation," which means that everybody else wants to play with my kids until they're hungry, or tired, or grumpy in any way, or even the slightest bit of needing anything. And while I'm taking care of that, I have to also worry about not totally destroying somebody else's house and make sure that my kids still have a bedtime schedule and a healthy diet, because they WILL NOT bounce back immediately upon our return if I don't. GACK.
Let's be honest, sometimes we need a break. Don't get me wrong. I love my role as a mother, and I love my children more than I could possibly describe. I've even written a sweet post or two about how great it is to be a mother. But even the most dedicated and enthusiastic doctors, writers, teachers, artists, mathematicians, scientists, and horse trainers get to go home to bed every night. I don't. So every once in a while, I need to be able to put my children in some other person's capable hands for a while, and disappear. I need to go on dates with Mike or go shopping with my sisters or go for a walk without pushing a stroller so that I can feel like a human again, a woman named Brittany, and not just "Mommy." Thank Heaven for siblings, because they can be free babysitters, and they can't even get mad and try to break up with you because you're sealed to them forever and there's no way they're getting out of it. BUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
(Also, thanks Emma and Sarah. You're pretty cool sisters, yo.)
Number Five: I regret all the negative things I said about humidity.
When I was a kid, I had super oily skin and hair. You know, puberty and whatnot. So whenever I visited grandparents in Boston or Nebraska or other such humid places, I complained. I whined about how humidity was awful for my hair, or that I was going to break out, or, you know, other reasons that my idiot teenage brain thought of but that didn't make any sense. (Okay, breaking out did make sense, but I was going to do that anyhow, so I shouldn't have been whining.)
I take it all back.
I have officially come into my own in Chicago. Being an adult totally stinks because of the metabolism and sleeping issues, but it's super cool not being a teenager anymore. My hair has been thriving. Most days, I wash my hair and rub in some anti-humidity cream, and then no matter what I do, my hair doesn't look like a terrible rats nest made of sticks and hay. (But then, that may also have something to do with the fact that most high schoolers have no idea how to deal with their hair.) (You know, because their brains haven't quite finished developing.) (Although there are exceptions, such as Emma--see my last post.) It's so lovely! I don't have to constantly be reapplying lotion, or wear heavy leave-in conditioner. I love Boise, but it's super super dry, and although I used to be proud of being from the desert, I have to admit--the humidity is way way easier on me than the dryness. I have come to really appreciate it. Now if only I could go back in time and slap 15-year-old Brittany in the face and tell her to learn how to do her hair stylishly instead of following high school trends.
Number Six: I apparently have allergies?
This one I just need to throw in here. I have never really had any allergies at all. In my life. But from the instant we got into Boise, I had dry, itchy eyes, runny nose, and uncontrollable sneezing. And it has continued even now that we're in Seattle. I have been living on allergy medicine.
Number Seven: As stressful as they are, I have surprisingly cooperative children.
I have heard a lot of people make comments about "I don't know how Brittany does it" and such of that nature, but let me tell you right now: for having twins, I have it pretty easy. Let me tell you about my kids.
Katie is a super genius. Maybe she is only three, and sometimes still gets pushed past her limits and needs to have a meltdown, but she is way more reasonable than the average three-year-old. For example, one night we stayed at my parents' house way later than we should have, and we were trying to get everybody in the car to go back to the farm for sleep. Katie, being totally strung out, proceeded to throw an enormous fit and kick and scream and yell names at even her Abuelo. It got so bad that someone even referenced the legendary tantrums that Emma used to throw when she was 3 and 4. And it continued as we drove away, having had to wrestle her into her car seat.
But as we were heading back to the farm, Katie said through her big, alligator tears, "I'm tired. I just want to go to bed!" And then, when we got up to her room at the farm and I was helping her say her prayers, she said, "Heavenly Father, Thank you for this day. Sorry for yelling at Grandma. Sorry for yelling at Abuelo. Sorry for yelling at Daddy. Sorry for yelling at Mommy. Sorry for yelling at everybody. In the name of Jesus Christ, amen." And then she proceeded to sob, "Now can I go to bed?" How many little kids do you know who, even when they're past reason, know the reason for their being past reason?
As for my boys, I have been so blessed. Yes, I have one-year-old twin boys. And they definitely know how to keep me on my toes. They are climbers, screamers, and definitely mischief-makers. They are the ultimate troublemaking team. But they are sweet boys, who love me a lot, love to play together and with their sister, and usually are pretty happy.
Most of all, they are good eaters and sleepers. I'm determined not to have picky eaters, but I'm pretty sure I won't have to worry about it. And boy howdy, are they good sleepers. See, when Katie was a baby, she got used to sleeping in my bed way too often, so I had a difficult time trying to teach her to put herself to sleep. And therefore, when the boys were born, I was determined to teach them to put themselves to sleep. And now, they can sleep in any room, at any time. I just turn on the sound machine, sing "I'm a Child of God," and lay them down, and they're out. Once, since we share a room with them here, I had to sneak back in not too long after putting them down, and they just lay there and watched me. They just hugged their blankets and blinked slowly as I said, "goodnight, boy boys!" and snuck out again. I am so spoiled.
I was going to write more things, but I ran out of ideas of witty things to say. Lucky for you, with all my new-found motivation for being better at life, I'm blogging more frequently. So you will (hopefully) never again have to go a whole week without a lovely update from Brittany. Ha.
*Special shout-out time!*
So, the reason we went especially when we did, is that my sister Sarah entered the MTC yesterday to go on a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. I'm super proud of her, and I think she's going to be great. You can check out her adventures and her testimony on her blog (which my mom and I will be keeping up), which is called
The Ginger Journal. You guys will love her.
